


steal a few breaths from the world

by milktian



Category: Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Eldritch beings, Female My Unit | Byleth, Gen, Glenn Fraldarius Lives, Good Parent Jeralt Reus Eisner, Hurt/Comfort, I love him, Kinda, Male My Unit | Byleth, Pre-Canon, i want him to be my dad >:(, they're twins
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-31
Updated: 2020-12-31
Packaged: 2021-03-11 04:01:36
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,179
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28458702
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/milktian/pseuds/milktian
Summary: On one side of Fodlan, Jeralt and his band of mercenaries (and his two children) travel into the Kingdom to find work.On the other side, Glenn lives - if you could even call it that.(Plot bunny - read inside notes ^^)
Relationships: Jeralt Reus Eisner & My Unit | Byleth
Kudos: 9





	steal a few breaths from the world

**Author's Note:**

> Ok so,,weird entry for my first fic into this fandom but I was doing some spring cleaning through my writing folder and I found a few fe3h fics that I could post but I never got around to. 
> 
> This is one of those fics, and I'm regretting not outlining it because I think it's kinda interesting but I don't know what it was about,,,really. So, unfortunately, this will only remain a one-shot plot idea until I can maybe figure out a plot?
> 
> it also probably doesn't help that I am cursed with the ability to only focus on one fandom at a time, and I've moved from writing for fe3h :(
> 
> I still think it's interesting enough to post, and I hope you enjoy it nonetheless.

⌜ • ° + ° • ⌝

**Imperial Year: 1176**

**15th of the Great Tree Moon**

⌞ ° • + • ° ⌟

  
  


"Father?"

Jeralt liked to think of himself as a well-mannered man - even if he was rough around the edges (the consequence of being a mercenary for 15 years). Initially, he had been employed in Garreg Mach, but some... _complications_ had disturbed the peace he had carefully crafted. He lived a somewhat modest life, if on the cusp of famine, and he resolved to work hard for the remaining joys in his life: his band of mercenaries, his wife's memories, and his two children.

One of whom was staring up at him.

He had two twins with Sitri (his beloved wife, who he shall mourn for the remainder of his life) - one boy and one girl, Byleth and Beres. They weren't like other children; they had no interest in playing with other children in the villages they stopped at, much instead preferring to watch his mercenaries work. This - of course - meant that they picked up sword skills quickly, and now each of them held a small dagger on their hip for safety. Byleth was taller than Beres, but only by a few centimetres, and had expressed a desire to grow out his hair like his sister.

His decision to grow out his hair meant that it hung just a bit higher than his sisters (it was around neck length) and curled around his face. Beres' hair stopped around her shoulders but was more flat, and often she had expressed a desire that she would like to have hair like his. It was almost like they tried to be complete twins; taking each other's style and sharing secrets on why they looked different. Jeralt still remembers a time where Beres had thrown a tantrum when she started developing a smattering of freckles (which, admittedly, did look really cute) and so to make her stop, Byleth had painted small dots on his face with old paints. 

"Father." Byleth's impatient voice dragged him out of his stupor, snapping him back into reality and focusing on his child. 

"You ok? Something happen?" Jeralt asked warily. He could never know what either of his children were thinking, with their blank faces and emotionless eyes. It caused an awful lot of problems with other children that they met on their job; Byleth and Beres had an extensive amount of trouble communicating, and an even harder time making friends. 

"Beres lost her hair clip." Ah, the hair clip that she wouldn't go anywhere without. It was a piece that she picked up when they were travelling in Fhirdidad. He couldn't forget how her eyes lit up when she looked at that (quite frankly tacky) snowflake hair clip in the markets, and practically begged Jeralt to buy it for her. It showed him that they were still normal children, just slightly more...stoic than others. 

Jeralt rubbed the back of his neck and motioned for him to return to his room. "Does she remember where she left it last?" Byleth shook his head and pointed to where their shared bedroom was. It was a right state; clothes scattered all over the floors and various types of objects and fabric spread out along the inn’s wooden floorboards. In the middle of the chaos was his daughter, Beres, mindlessly grasping at the various clothes and picking them up before setting them back down again. Byleth scampered back next to his sister, kneeling beside her and moving the objects around and training his eyes on the floor.

Beres looked up at him, eyes blank and seemingly emotionless. Jeralt sighed and moved over towards her, grasping at the multitude of clothes and fabrics, bunching them up and tossing them into a corner. "Alright. This will probably be easier without all of this mess. So, where did you leave it last?"

"I don't remember not having it when coming back." Beres replied in a soft voice, "I was wearing it when I was with Dox and Hammond." Dox and Hammond were two of the oldest mercenaries in Jeralt's band. They had grown up alongside Byleth and Beres, watching them grow - and subsequently growing remarkable patience for them that some of the younger mercenaries don't have quite yet. 

"Alright, wait here a moment. I'll go ask them if they've seen them. Byleth, look after your sister." Jeralt once again leaves them to look in their room whilst he made his way down to Dox's room. It was still bright outside, with the golden sunshine shining through the inn’s slightly cracked window. Soon enough, he found himself outside of the worn wooden door of Dox's room. 

"Ah, captain! Did you need something?" Dox was an aged man, with wispy grey hair and an air of calmness surrounding him. He held himself tall, rugged and bright-eyed, and people often found themselves gravitating towards him due to his blinding personality. 

"Yeah, do you remember if Beres was wearing a hair clip when she was with you and Ham?" Dox muttered for a bit before twisting his beard between his two fingers, "If it helps it looks like a blue snowflake." Dox shuffled around on his feet, and looked towards an antique box on his desk; he pointed to the chest and motioned for Jeralt to check. The box was empty inside (except for a few crumpled up papers and ambiguous metal objects). He sighed. Hammond had gone home earlier that day - on terms of retirement (he was nearly his elderly years after all), and stated that the last thing he wanted to do was 'drag the younger ones down' - and he lived all the way in Enbarr.

"Right. Thanks anyway, Dox." Jeralt huffed and walked back to his, and his children's room. Beres' room looked remarkably cleaner than when he had first seen it; the two of them must have cleaned up whilst he was away, and now the two were sitting on the floor with scrap pieces of fabric, and a small needle and thread. 

"What's going on here?" He asked as he kneeled on the rough wooden floorboards and sat crossed legged. Byleth muttered something indecipherable underneath his breath, leaned in closer to his scraps of fabric, and trained his eyes on the thread. Beres motioned to her length of cloth and held it up to her hair: "Ribbon...because I lost the hair clip." She looked glumly down at the floor, "I'm sorry for losing it." 

Jeralt chuckled and shuffled her hair. "Don't worry about it, kid. I bet this ribbon will be ten times better than the hair clip anyway." He stood back up and left the room, "Don't stay up too late, though." Byleth nodded back to him and continued seeing, handing a finished strand to his sister. Beres took it from him tentatively and placed it in a small pile next to her. 

The next morning Beres arrived at the breakfast table with a bright bow holding up her dark hair in a bunch, with Byleth trailing after her with an identical bow tied to his bag strap. They were big, and were made out of smaller ribbon all tied together haphazardly; wafts of fabric sewn into the central bow and dozens dangling down from the loops. It looked horrendous, with clashing colours and fly-aways - pairing it with Beres' usually messy hair. But on his two children, they looked perfect.

Jeralt couldn't be prouder.

  
  


⌜ • ° + ° • ⌝

**Imperial Year: 1176**

**17th of the Great Tree Moon**

⌞ ° • + • ° ⌟

  
  


Blood. 

There was blood everywhere. Red coated soldiers’ cloth, viscous fluid leaking out of wounds as the light faded from their eyes, slowly laying a fitful rest of pain and anger. They were much too young - the majority of them were around the late 20s, they had a life ahead of them. They had families to go home to, and wives and husbands to greet. Pets to curl up with and forget the terrors of combat. But now they die here: cold, surrounded by corpses. 

Glenn couldn't breathe.

Wind and rain whipped into his face as he slashed and cut down enemies, blood not belonging to him splashing onto his face as he struggled to make his way through the massacre. He couldn't breathe properly; he inhaled death-soaked air, infiltrating his lungs and contaminating his body. Thick liquid clogging up his trachea, sliding down his lungs. It burned. It _ached._ He needed to leave. Get out. Escape. Before this war devoured him and all he held dear. 

"Glenn!" A young voice screamed out from behind him. He turned around swiftly to see the young prince cowering before a soldier - ready to strike - and before he could even contemplate his actions, he found himself on the receiving end. The soldier fell before, limp and lifeless, as the wound on Glenn's side deepened as the axe fell down the crevice - slicing his skin further.

"'Ighness...you must leave now." He slurred his words as he fell dying, "Run. Get...out of here...now!" He shouted the last word, demanding him to run. The prince (who was backing up tentatively, and without commitment) flinched and began a retreat. This bloody massacre was no place for a child - no place for a prince. He couldn't move, not even to check if he had gotten away safely. His chest hurt just thinking about failing to save him - the one job he _fucking had!_ Laboured breaths spilt out of his mouth, desperately seeking life as he pressed his wound with his hand. There was no doubt it would become infected...if he made it out alive.

Felix. 

He couldn't die now. He had to look after Felix. His brother would be so alone...without him. No one to cross swords. What would father tell him? Probably some bullshit about dying like a true knight - he had always been like that. Felix wouldn't appreciate it. He'd be...so angry. So so angry. Glenn heaved and looked up towards the sky - eyes clouded and hazy. This was to be his end - cold, dying and alone.

_"My what a sight..."_

What? 

White noise began to fill with ears frantically. The earth started clawing at his clothes - his skin. The wind was more akin to sharp knives stabbing into him, piercing and burning hot. Multiple voices crowded his head as spider limbs crawled into his eye sockets - blinding his vision. It _hurt_. Something was digging its way through his body - violating him. Defacing him. A moth (what…?) fluttered down from seemingly the abyss and burrowed it's way past his mouth and landed uncomfortably on his tongue. It was _scalding_. Burning hot - like magma. 

_"My my, what an interesting sight…"_

Black claws pressed down on his temples - his eyes refusing to focus on the...creature right in front of him. Its claws were unbearably cold, and he could feel them piercing his blood and freezing it in its tracks. He should be used to the cold, and yet he was being reduced to a quivering mess as the monster bowed over him. Hot tears splashed onto his skin - they weren't his. Those tears weren't burning hot; they reminded him of nicer days back home. Warm. Parental. He wanted to...sleep.

_"You shall not sleep yet, no...that simply will not do."_

The claws travelled down his head and landed below his chin and, without warning, plunged into his mouth to grasp the moth. Glenn hurled and choked at the sudden movement, trying to cough out the claws - scratching at the armour ( he assumed it was armour. It felt hard and scaly) with little success. Cradling the moth in its hands, it removed its claws and allowed Glenn to breathe in sacred splutters. 

_"I have allowed you to live once more...but not here. Never here…"_

_"Move East...watch the spiders...they will guide you home."_

Just like that, the creature was gone, and Glenn woke up in a forest - alone, but alive. Echoing voices bounced around his head, reminding him of the unfortunate terms. He couldn't ever return home - not even to say hi.

Grunting, Glenn picked himself up and off the ground and stared at the road ahead of himself. His cloak was tattered, and he was covered in blood (he had no idea if it was his own or not). Rancid wafts of death floated around him and hung onto his skin like a plague.

He’d been given another chance to live by… whatever that was (Glenn wasn’t going to ask about it, lest he is struck down by the Goddess or something like that) and he wasn’t going to waste it.

Judging by where he was, he had landed in the Empire somewhere. East… that was near the Oghma mountains - Garreg Mach. He’d find salvation there, he’s sure. After all, it’s not particularly virtuous to turn away a bloodied man at the door. There was the risk of the Archbishop notifying his family, but he’s sure that if he explained the situation… yeah, they would understand. Hopefully.

Glenn had been given one more chance at life, and by the fucking Goddess he was going to take it.

**Author's Note:**

> Like I said, this probably won't be continued 
> 
> who knows,,,i might figure out a plot one day.
> 
> Tumblr: milkt-ian


End file.
